


Ask Me

by pinecovewoods



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: F/M, FEMALE Spot Conlon, one of my favorite things i've written, we all need a badass female brooklyn leader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 20:09:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16939866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinecovewoods/pseuds/pinecovewoods
Summary: When Jack calls for volunteers to go to Brooklyn, Race feels his stomach drop.





	Ask Me

When Jack calls for volunteers to go to Brooklyn, Race feels his stomach drop. He looks away, avoiding eye contact with him in hopes that he doesn't call him to go. He will - he can't exactly say no if Jack asks - but the pit in his stomach makes thinking of anything else almost impossible. 

"Finch?"

The name isn't his, but Race somehow feels like Jack's really speaking to him.

"You tellin' me you's scared of Brooklyn?"

"I ain't scared of no turf," Finch replies, and Race barely holds back a laugh, "but that Spot Conlon gets me a little...jittery."

Race makes eye contact with Jack, and the pit in his stomach is back. He tries not to think about the fact that Jack knows; knows about her, and knows what Race will do if he asks. 

And then Jack says he'll take Davey and go, and Race can breath a little easier. 

The look the older boy gives him makes his skin crawl. He practically sprints out of Jacobi's when Jack breaks the meeting, making his way quickly to Midtown to avoid any confrontation.

"Shit," he whispers, twirling his cigar around in his fingers to try and relieve some of the anxiety rising in his chest, " _shit_."

He gets back to the lodging before Jack, seeing as he was only in Midtown and not Brooklyn. So he waits, because he knows Jack's gonna need to talk to him, and he'd rather meet him outside away from prying ears.

He nervously smokes a cigarette he took from Albert, leaning against the outside of the lodging as he waits.

"Hey Racer," Jack says.

"Figured you'd want t' talk afta what happened."

"If I's honest I half expected ya t' volunteer," Jack says, "but I knew you wouldn't, s'much as I wish you would'a."

"How'd it go?"

"'Bout as bad as I's thought it was gonna go," Jack sighs, adjusting his hat, "Spot ain't gonna jus' lend a hand 'cause I's ask nicely."

"'N you thinks she would if I went?"

Jack's quiet for long enough that Race has to look over to make sure he's still awake. 

"I thinks it would be a betta chance if you's had asked but," Jack shrugs, "I understand why you's can't."

"You do?" Race asks, surprised.

"I mean, not really," Jack laughs a bit, "I ain't neva had the kinda relationship you's have with her, I get why you don't wanna risk that."

Race nods slowly, staring out into the darkness.

"Whadda we's gonna do, Jackie?"

"I dunno Race," Jack sighs, running a hand over his face, "I dunno."

They're silent again, Race's mind running a mile a minute. His hands shake as he thinks, and then he speaks.

"Ask me."

"Racer I-"

"Ask me," he repeats, "ask me to go to Brooklyn, tell me to talk to Spot. I know you wanna, I know you's think it'll help 'n I...I can't be the reason we lose 'cause I was too scared t' ask her for help."

"I can't ask you t' do that," Jack replies, "I knew we didn't have much of'a chance of her sayin' yes, never mind who asked her. If I's thought otherwise I'd'a sent you's in the first place."

"We's gonna get slaughtered," Race murmurs.

"Maybe so," Jack says, "but what you 'n Spot have...it's different than normal, 'n I can't ask ya t' ruin it. You's not jus' my second, Racer, you's my brother."

Race smiles, and pats Jack's shoulder. 

"Right back atcha Jackie," he says gently, "I uh, I 'ppreciate you not makin' me go down t' see Spot. Means a lot t' me."

Jack nods.

"We's should get some sleep," he says, "gotta big day 'head of us tomorrow."

"Yeah," Race breathes, dropping the finished cigarette into the dirt.

\---

He's halfway to Brooklyn before he even realizes that he's moving, but he doesn't stop. He twirls his cigar around his fingers again, fiddling with one of his suspenders as he makes his way to the Brooklyn lodging house.

He climbs the fire escape to the top, knocking on the window to announce his presence.

"Racer?" Her eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Everythin' okay?"

Race doesn't respond, instead he hoists himself through the window. Her heart cracks when he steps into the light, the bruises and cuts prominent.

"What the hell?" She asks. "Who did this to you?"

Race leans against the brink wall, eyes fixed on his shoes.

"Bulls," Race shrugs, "we went on strike, 'n Wiesel called 'em in," he sighs, "look, I know me askin' for your help don't hold no more weight than Jack jus' cause we's...together."

"Yeah I...I was kinda surprised when Kelly showed up with out you's," she rocks back on her heels, "so why's you 'ere now?" She asks. "Don't get me wrong, I's always wanna see you, I jus'...didn't think you'd come this soon."

Race swallows, tugging on the brim of his hat to keep the attention away from the tears pooling in his eyes. 

"I uh, I wanted t' see you's," he says, trying to keep the shakiness out of his voice, "I dunno when I'll be able t' get away again."

"Well I's glad you's 'ere now," she says gently, "I'm sorry it's gotta be like this, Racer, I jus-"

"Can we's not talk 'bout it?" He asks. "I's exhausted 'n I...I dunno, I just wanna be with you's."

Her lips twitch into a frown, but she drops it quickly and nods nonetheless.

"Come over 'ere 'n kiss me then," she says.

He does as she asks, pulling her close and pressing his lips to hers. He feels a bit of the stress melt away at her touch, and can't help the fact that he feels like he can breathe easier with her by his side. 

He doesn't know he's crying until he feels her wipe her thumb across his face.

"Tonio," his heart swells at the nickname, soft and vulnerable, "you's not tellin' me somethin'."

"I's goin' down with Manhattan," he says before he can stop himself.

She takes a step back, confusion on her face.

"I don't..."

"I ain't 'ere t' ask for nothin'," Race breathes, "I's 'ere t' say goodbye."

She steps back again, and again, and falls onto her bed breathless. 

"Racer whaddya sayin'?"

"We's goin' to lose this without you, Spot," he replies, shaking his head, "'n I'm either gonna get dragged t' the Refuge or do somethin' idiotic 'n get myself killed. I ain't askin' you's t' do nothin', I jus' needed t' see you's 'fore that happens." 

She feels like her chest is caving in, and the fact that he takes a side step towards the window makes it worse.

"I don't know what t' say."

"There's nothin' t' say," Race responds, anger replacing sadness, "you abandoned us, you abandoned _me_ , Sofia," his voice cracks, and her heart breaks.

The sound of her real name makes the girl rock backwards on the bed, as if the words had physically hit her. It takes her a moment to respond, mind reeling.

"I didn't...I neva wanted you's t-"

"Doesn't matta what you's wanted, this is what happened," Race says, "Manhattan's doin' this, with or without the other boroughs, 'n I's wanted to let you know that."

He's halfway down the staircase before she processes the words, shooting up off of her bed and running over to the sill. 

"Antonio," she calls, leaning out of the open frame, "please, can we's talk 'bout this?"

Race stops at the end of the fire escape, looking up at her with glistening eyes. 

"I love you, Sofia Conlon," he says, "whateva happens tomorrow, whether I's end up in the Refuge or dead," he scoffs, shaking his head a little, "I's grateful for the time we's had together. You gave me's the stars, my love, 'n no one can ever replace you."

He disappears into the darkness before she can respond. She lets out a loud, gasping sob - something she hasn't done in years. 

She feels her knees go weak, and stumbles back over to her bed. She collapses onto the mattress, struggling to catch her breath. She's not sure how long she sits there crying, but suddenly the tears stop and determination replaces the fear.

"Hotshot!" She calls, opening the door for her second to come in.

"Everythin' okay?"

"Tell the boys we ain't sellin' tomorrow," she says, "we's goin' down t' 'Hattan to help 'em with the strike."

The boy looks surprised. It's a fair reaction, given that she had originally given them explicit orders to keep out of Manhattan's business. 

"We's doin' it?"

"They's didn't back down from the fight today," she says, trying to hide the stress in her voice, "I's told Kelly if he don't back down he's got us, so he's got us."

He tries to hide the smile on his face, but she sees it anyway.

"I knows you thought we's should'a helped 'em from the start," she says, sighing a bit, "but I's cou-"

"I ain't in need of'a explanation," Hotshot cuts her off, shrugging, "your decisions work for me, I'll let the boys know."

She lets out a grateful breath, smiling.

"Thanks," she says, "gets some sleep, big day tomorrow."

He nods, but doesn't leave. Instead, he taps his fingers against his bicep, contemplation on his face.

"I's can see you's thinkin', Hotshot," she says, "just ask me."

"I's heard you's talkin' in 'ere earlier," he says, " I's uh...I's heard you's cryin'. Jus' hopin' everythin' s'okay, I guess."

"It...it should be," she says, "it will be."

Hotshot nods, satisfied.

"See you's in the mornin', boss."

The cold air doesn't help the tears brimming in Race's eyes as he walks back to Manhattan. The stairs up to the lodge seem longer than usual, but he makes his greatest effort to keep the door quiet as he slips into the building.

"You's gettin' back late."

Race jumps, not expecting the voice to come from the dark.

"Whaddya still doin' up?"

"Waitin' for you's," Jack replies, "suppose you find yourself in Brooklyn?"

Race nods, pulling the cigar out of his back pocket. 

"Needed t' see 'er," he says, using a candle to light the cigar, "needed t' talk to 'er."

"And?"

Race lets out a shaky breath along with the smoke, blinking back the tears.

"Not good," he says, "s'not good, Jackie. I don't even knows what we are anymore...if we's together or..."

"What happened?"

"I don't think she's comin'," he sighs, his chest hollow, "I'm sorry I...I really tried, but I don't think she's gonna come."

Jack places a gentle hand on Race's shoulder, shaking his head.

"It ain't your fault, Racer," he says quietly, "we's doin' this together, you 'n me 'n the rest'a the fellas, we's can do this."

"I need t' sleep," Race says, snuffing out his cigar, "thanks for waitin' up for me."

Jack nods, and wraps the boy in a hug.

"S'gonna be okay," he says, "it ain't seemin' like it now, but it will. 'N after this is all over you's can fix things with 'er."

Race nods, and decides not to argue. His eyes burn, and he can't tell if its because of sleep or tears. Either way, he pulls himself up the stairs to his bunk and passes out as soon as his head hits the pillow.

\---

Despite how much he tries to keep up his usual demeanor, Race knows that the other boys can tell something is up with him, but anytime he gets asked he chalks it up to being out late planning the rally with Jack and Davey. 

That satisfies the curious boys, but leaves an empty feeling in his chest. 

He hates the way his heart feels heavy as they walk to Medda's theatre. He should be happy, he should be excited, he should be reeling in the fact that they're leading a huge strike against one of the biggest names in town, and yet, he feels hollow.

He tries to pay attention as various boys file into the theatre, but his mind runs too fast for him to keep up. He climbs up to the balcony of one of the raisers, not wanting to deal with any of the boys trying to talk to him. Davey starts the rally, and Race feels his stomach drop to his feet. 

"And let's hear it for Spot Conlon and Brooklyn!"

Race shoots out of his seat and practically throws himself against the railing, eyes bugging out of his head as he sees the love of his life leading her borough into the theatre.

Amongst the cheering, Spot looks up at the balcony, making eye contact with Race. She gives him a wink, subtle enough for the others to ignore but the biggest gesture in the world to him. 

He wants nothing more than to jump down the stairs and pull her into his arms, but he knows that he can't. For many reasons. So he settles back into his chair, glancing every now and then to where she stands behind Davey. 

And then the speeches are over, and the newsies are enjoying the party part of the rally. It's all too much, the noise, the talking, the people, and Race decides he needs to smoke.

He sneaks out the back door, hoping no one sees him. He leans against the brick, taking a deep drag of his cigar in hopes it calms his nerves. 

The door opens, because of course he can't be left alone for more than five minutes.

"I really don't wanna talk right now Al," he sighs, eyes closed with his head tilted back, "just needed a smoke, I'll be back inside soon."

"I'll make sure to pass on the message."

He snaps his head forward, watching as she closed the door behind her. She walks towards him passively, the demeanor unusual for her.

"I..." Race shakes his head, letting out another puff of smoke, "you came."

She takes the hat off of her head, sticking it in the waist of her pants and running a hand through her hair.

"Course I did," she breathes the words more than says them, shock in her voice, "you honestly didn't think I'd come for you's?"

"Well I wasn't sure, for a minute there I thought that y-"

He drops the faux joking tone when his voice cracks, and he feels the tears well in his eyes. He lets go of the cigar, one arm wrapping itself around his waist and his other hand coming up to cover his eyes. 

She stand there a bit stunned, opening and closing her mouth to try and find the words. His upper body shakes as he lets out a sob, and her heart breaks.

"Race, I..." she steps forward, wanting to hold him but not wanting to make him do anything he doesn't want, "Tonio, I'm sorry I's scared you's. As soon as you..." 

She trails off as her voice gives out, the emotion welling in her eyes. The boy drops his hand, wiping his cheeks, and she brings a hand up to his jaw, gently and slowly holding his face.

"As soon as you said goodbye, Brooklyn was comin'," she whispers. 

Race pulls her to him, kissing her with all the emotion he's been holding in for the past few days. He feels her kiss him back, and the cracks in his heart start to mend themselves. 

"I was so scared," he whispers without thinking, the vulnerability coming easy with her.

"I thought you was gonna end up in the Refuge for sure," she says, shaking her head, "I'd be scared 'bout that too."

"That's not what scared me," he says, pushing some hair behind her ear, "the thought of neva seein' you's again shook me to my bones."

"Oh Tony."

"I ain't a fan'a the way we's left things," he whispers, "I jus'...I was so sure that you loved me-"

She cuts him off with a kiss, pressing herself to his chest.

"I love you more than words, Antonio Higgins," she breathes, "don't you's eva think otherwise. I messed up by not havin' my boys there for you's today," she shakes her head, "I can't take it back, but I ain't neva gonna do it again, 'kay?"

"Okay," Race nods, and kisses her again, "welcome t' the strike, darlin'."

"Let's see what Pulitzer's gotta say t' you's now."


End file.
